Three songs into his set, Stephen Coates is already breaking hearts. "This is the end," he announces in a conspiratorial whisper. "This is goodbye." It's a grim finality that fans of his band, The Real Tuesday Weld, should recognise. Since 1997, Coates has been entwining love with death, hanging modern nihilism over old-fashioned romance like a bloodstained axe.

Adept at giving the swooning, jazz style of 1930's heartthrob Al Bowlly a contemporary bite through the addition of samples, bleeps and squeaks, Coates' Cinemascope sound has found it's spiritual home in soundtracks. First came 2003's I, Lucifer, an accompanying piece to Glen Duncan's novel of the same name. Now, having made a new soundtrack to the landmark surrealist film, Dreams That Money Can Buy, Coates is, for the moment at least, taking off his bizarre, swimming google glasses, hanging up his pin-striped suit and putting the Real Tuesday Weld into semi-retirement.

But it's hard to imagine Coates abandoning the stage for long. Wafting around with a mannered grace and silk neckerchief worthy of Noel Coward, he immerses himself in every breezy note of his songs and ponders each desolate belief, his alter ego, the "Clerkenwell Kid" rising to every challenge.

Staggering back as a violin pierces the easy melody of (Still) Terminally Ambivalent Over You, he acts shocked by its sudden appearance. Watching, open-mouthed, as a clarinet enters the fray, he seems surprised by the playful duel that evolves.

But Coates is the central, magnetic force of every strand of this multi-layered music. "I want to fuck you up, you fucked up fuck," he sings over the gentle swing melody of One More Chance, like an old-time bandleader turned bad, gesturing madly, indulging in conversations with imaginary friends. He tweaks an electronic box of noises throughout, adding horn flourishes to the saga of Life and Times, showbiz even when sedentary. If this is the end, it's a fitting one.